There are precious few moments where I know, I mean know, what's coming next in a hockey game, regardless of the score, situation, or teams. Saturday night felt like one of them. Sitting in section 121, I saw Rangers forward Scott Gomez charge behind the net, put his stick on Ryan Miller, along with his leg for good measure, sending the Sabres star goaltender to the ice.

Now, as a guy who would run a goaltender in his embarassingly-low-level playing days, I can tell you what's coming next generally isn't pretty, and as Miller limped back to his crease in the hopes of a puck accidentally hitting his chest, my eyes darted around the ice to see who would be heading after Gomez. Looked like Paul Gaustad.

Indeed, New York coach Tom Renney left Gomez out for the next shift, and Lindy Ruff didn't need to swap lines. There across from Gomez at puck-drop was Gaustad, Miller's good friend and a hulk of a man. The crowd was ready, booing and understanding that even on the softest of soft teams, something is going down.

The puck was dropped.

Gomez was off-balance.

Gaustad moved his arms into cross-check mode...

...Pushed Gomez in the back and skated away.

That'll teach 'em.

I can't recall a time I was more let down by the physical incapabilities of the Buffalo Sabres. Here was a non-fighting-5'11"-on-a-good-day-center who just up-ended your best healthy player. Here is a chance for literally anyone on your team, up-to-and-including Derek Roy, to pony-up for a teammate. Here is a moment that for the rest of his time in Buffalo, regardless of stature, fans can point to the moment that (Insert name here) got the gumption to do something righteous.

Instead we got Tim Connolly trying to get at Gomez five minutes after the fact, and the refs doing their best to ensure nothing happens.

What does it mean when the guy who steps up has a head injury history shakier than post-op Frankenstein? It means he didn't think anyone else would do the job. So, after two years of "Tim Whinerle" and "Tim Concussionly," I've got a newfound level of respect for No. 19, and a newfound bevy of questions for many of his teammates.

Welcome to a playoff run with no Miller, no Vanek, and precious little heart. For three weeks, I've been slowly-moving towards "Why not?" -- "The Sabres might be pretty good," Feb. 18 -- as I wrote last week. All it took was one moment, one ridiculous moment where your goaltender is treated like a character in "Street Fighter" to prove that nothing's changed.

No excuses. No "Gomez is a respected veteran" garbage, and I'm especially not buying what Lindy Ruff did to try and take blame off his team. If your coach has to make an excuse about not wanting to give up a 5-on-3 with a three-goal lead in the third period at home as if that is actually believable, there should be a level of embarassment.

You generally don't write this "column" unless you are 100 percent sure it's what you believe... unless you know that every word you write you'd say to a man in that locker room if challenged. And in the immortal words of one Forrest Gump, that's all I have to say about that.

It's all tough stuff, though I'm imagining not as tough as what lies ahead. Anyone need tickets for Tuesday?

Email: nick@wgr550.com